


Take a Deep Breath, Pick Yourself Up..

by Diminua



Series: Take a Deep Breath, Pick Yourself Up.. [1]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: F/M, I've marked it f/m but I can't guarantee they'll get that far, following up on livejournal from a billion years ago, guess who watched series one again?, it's probably all that school cabbage he was forced to eat as a boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-08 02:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diminua/pseuds/Diminua
Summary: Deb Lister joins the Jupiter Mining Corp. Red Dwarf. Z-shift. She's the only girl in a team of lads, but that's not a problem. Well, not for anyone except Rimmer - not that she thinks he'd like her if she was a bloke either.





	1. Prologue

‘So what are you tellin’ me Rimmer? I should go and find a typing pool or something?’

‘Certainly not. No, of course not. I’m as liberal minded as the next man. I just don’t know if z-shift is going to be a good fit, that’s all.’ Rimmer is on the defensive now, arms folded, shifting his weight from heels to toes. Fidgety. Looking anywhere other than actually at Lister. ‘But if you feel you know better who am I to complain?’ 

‘Right.’ Lister says, because she can’t begin to unpick that one. They got off to a bad start before she even knew Rimmer ran z-shift, late last night when she dropped round to see if Selby was up for a quick half, and his new bunkmate – tall, pale, with a crease in his trousers you could cut yourself on and a nose he spends most of his time looking down – barely waited until she was out the open door before sneering. 

‘That was remarkably quick work wasn’t it?’ 

And of course she couldn’t let him get away with it, snotty git, and of course it turns out he’s in charge of z-shift. Her shift. 

Not that she thinks Rimmer would really want her here anyway. Holly, the shipboard computer, has already had to confirm that Yes Arnold, Deborah Lister was assigned to z-shift and No Arnold, there hasn’t been a mistake and Yes Arnold, Holly does know Deborah is a girl’s name. 

‘Well, shouldn’t I have been consulted about it?’ 

‘No Arnold, not really.’ Holly had said. ‘Cheerio now.’ And with that he had disappeared. Presumably to go talk to someone less bonkers. 

‘But we’ve never had a woman before.’ Rimmer had whined at the empty screen. ‘What are we supposed to do with her?’ 

‘We-ll..’ One of the younger lads began, but Lister had interrupted before he’d got steam up. Whatever he was planning to say was only going to annoy her.

’So what are you tellin’ me Rimmer?’ She had said instead. ‘I should go and find a typing pool or something?’


	2. Chapter One

Faced with a still agitated Rimmer about a week later, Second Officer Todhunter’s reaction is not hugely different. 

‘There are female technicians on all the other shifts.’ He points out. 

‘But they’ve earned the right to be there.’ Rimmer blusters. ‘z-shift is..’ 

‘The bottom rung of a long ladder, I hope.’ 

‘Well yes sir, but..’ 

‘And we don’t ask anyone else to earn the right to climb up on that first rung Rimmer. And times change.’ 

‘Yes sir.’ Rimmer says stiffly. ‘I understand that. But she’s insubordinate as well. She has absolutely no respect for the chain of command. And she distracts the others. I just don’t think she belongs on z-shift.’

‘Well it’s only been five days.’ Todhunter points out, politely restraining himself from adding that no one on Rimmer’s shift has any respect for the chain of command, largely because the next link up in that chain happens to be Arnold J Rimmer. ‘It’ll quiet down, you’ll see. They’ll soon get used to her being there.’ He stands up to steer Rimmer towards the door. ‘I’ll speak to Lister as well of course, check she’s settling in.’

_I bet you will._ Rimmer thinks, narked by the handsome openness of Todhunter’s smiling face, the matey pat on the shoulder. 

‘Oh I don’t think you need to go that far sir. With all due respect, I can manage.’

_Ah._ Todhunter thinks. _I wonder._

He waits until Rimmer is well down the corridor before he nabs Console Officer Olaf Petersen for a quick chinwag. 

‘Nothing major.’ He assures him. ‘But in here if it’s alright.’ 

Petersen nods and, without speaking, pushes his chair back from his screen and follows into the Captain’s office. Olaf Petersen is famously loquacious with his mates, with women, or when he’s drinking, but he’s quiet and conscientious on duty. 

Todhunter doesn’t sit. It’s extra assurance that it really isn’t anything major and it really will be quick. 

‘You know Deborah Lister don’t you?’ He asks.

‘Of course.’ Petersen knows everyone. He’s probably the only longstanding officer who attends every ‘welcome aboard’ social. Even Todhunter and Captain Hollister take turns. 

‘How would you describe her?’ 

‘Short.’ Olaf says briefly. ‘Pretty. She bunks with Marie Greco. Was Rimmer complaining about her?’

‘You know I’m not supposed to tell you that.’

‘He fancies her. They say he’s walked into two walls and a bucket this week.’ 

‘And you’re not really supposed to tell me that either.’ 

Petersen shrugs. ‘I expect she’s in her room now if you want her. Marie has Esperanto on Tuesdays.’

In fact Todhunter finds Lister in corridor 12, not far from the bunkroom at all, getting dinner in from one of the dispensing machines. 

‘It is Lister isn’t it?’ He’s only seen her from a distance and not really noticed her. Swamped in the beige cloth jumpsuit that flatters no-one, he’d had a vague impression of someone small and energetic and pretty well sexless. 

She’s different close up, with her hair loose down her shoulders – there’s a lot of it, twisted back from her forehead in uneven dreadlocks, and a close fitting t shirt with a purple giraffe print. 

Definitely not sexless, for one thing. 

‘First Officer Todhunter.’ He says. ‘I just wanted a quick word if that’s alright. Don’t let me stop you eating that while it’s hot.’ 

‘Ok. Welcome to our humble abode then.’ Lister smiles and leaves the door open for him to follow as she dumps her platter on the bunkroom table and rummages for clean cutlery. She’s friendly, waves him to the chair opposite her own, but doesn’t think to call him sir. 

Rimmer is right, it seems, about the lack of respect for command. 

‘So what did you want to talk about?’ She asks.

‘I just wanted to ask how you’re finding it on z-shift all among the lads.’ 

For a moment she looks up at him, confused, but it takes less than a second for the penny to drop, and when it does she grins. 

It’s rather an attractive grin. Candid. It makes Todhunter think of flapper girls and early silent movie stars, half a head shorter than their male co-stars; all eyes and curls and naughtiness.

‘Did Rimmer talk to you?’ She asks. 

‘Well yes, that was another question I had.’ Todhunter admits. ‘Rimmer can be a bit..’ the briefest of hesitations while he picks the right word. ‘Old fashioned.’

‘Rimmer’s ok.’ Lister counters, so quickly it must be reflex, instinct not to get anyone into trouble. ‘I’m pretty sure his bark is worse than his bite.’ 

Then, as an afterthought because she knows full well the first question had been a smokescreen, ‘and the lads are good, thanks.’ 

‘Well I’ll leave you to your meal I suppose.’ Todhunter says, since she’s clearly said all she has to say and is already digging in again. ‘Bon appetit.’ 

He gets back to the Captain’s office to find Hollister also shovelling down today’s special.

‘Well?’ He asks. 

‘I think I agree with Olaf.’

‘Pretty or short?’

‘Both.’ Todhunter says. ‘Also bright, good-natured and excellent at dissembling. I felt like a schoolteacher asking who’d started a fight in the playground.’ 

‘Certainly sounds like a bright girl to me.’ Hollister says, comfortably. ‘Storm in a teacup Frank, just let it blow over.’

‘She’s not really a girl sir.’

‘No?’ Hollister’s expression is satirical. ‘Well you should know. You’ve met her.’

Todhunter really hadn’t meant it like that, but he lets it go.


	3. Chapter Two

‘Really Lister. Must you make that infernal noise?’ 

‘What noise?’

‘You’re whistling. Do you have to whistle?’

‘I can’t help it Rimmer. I’m bored.’

‘Bored. How can you be bored? This is essential routine maintenance. It’s vital to the wellbeing of this ship, this crew and this mission.’

‘So is washing me smalls Rimmer. It doesn’t stop it being boring.’

‘Don’t be crass Lister.’ 

‘Anything else I can’t do? Can I breathe? Talk? Jive?’ 

‘You can breathe.’ 

‘Fantastic.’ She says wryly. ‘Thanks.’ 

It’s been nine weeks now, long enough for Lister’s life on board Red Dwarf to have settled into a routine. Friday night, for example, is girl’s night out, and sometimes she and Marie do cocktails or fizzy wine and cheese puffs (standing room only) before they all go on somewhere. Saturday night is party night, which usually ends in tequila or tia marias and a filthy headache next morning. Tuesdays Marie has Esperanto in the evenings and there’s the chance to catch up on old movies or even drag out the games console.  
The rest of the routine is even more boring, but unfortunately Rimmer is already dragging her back to it.

‘Right, here we are. Officers quarters 17a.’ 

He knocks and somehow manages to make his poker-up-his-arse posture even more vertical as the door opens. Arms by his sides, thumbs slightly out. 

Only once it is fully open does he unleash his salute though. Lister, following with the tool cart, slumps low and pretends she’s not there.

‘Second technician Arnold J Rimmer…’ 

‘That’s right. It’s through there.’ Graham Smallwood interrupts, standing back to let them enter. Officers quarters are bigger and lighter than the normal bunkrooms, but they’re still nothing to write home about. Same old metal table, kitchen area, bunkbeds; just with the rivets covered up and the walls painted cream. 

There’s no floor space as such – and what there is has Smallwood’s dirty clothes and other bits and pieces scattered over it anyway. He kicks the clutter out of the way of the trolley, noticing the person pushing it for the first time. 

‘Ah. You must be Lister.’ He says. 

‘Fame at last, Lister.’ Rimmer observes. 

‘I noticed. How many people did you complain to Rimmer?’ 

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ 

While all that’s going on Smallwood has been busily pushing a desk chair with another pile of washing on it out of sight under the table and throwing a few minor personal items back into the open suitcase they came from. 

‘Excuse the state of the place won’t you? I’ve just got back from planet leave and, well, I was expecting a couple of lads to be honest.’ 

‘Yeah, sorry about that. A chap and a blokette was all we could rustle up in the time.’ 

‘No respect, that’s your problem Lister.’ Rimmer says, completely automatically, already unscrewing the shower head. 

‘Oh I don’t mind.’ Smallwood has one of those rich, plummy, old money voices. He smiles pleasantly and leans his elbows on the opposite end of the cart to the one Lister’s propped up on. ‘Although you are quite cheeky you know Lister.’ 

That gets her attention. She catches his look and smiles back. 

‘It goes with the face.’ She says.

‘I can see that.’ 

‘Do you mind moving sir?’ Rimmer says briskly, interrupting. ‘You’re in my light.’ 

Smallwood knows he isn’t, but he moves anyway, making a little pantomime of his amusement for Lister, and going to fold something up on his bunk. 

She is less amused. ‘What was that about?’ She asks, moving up to Rimmer’s elbow and lowering her voice. 

‘Sorry. What was what about, exactly?’ 

‘Rimmer, I’m 25, not 12.’

‘You may think that Lister but these officers are all the same. They believe harassing the junior orders is a privilege of rank.’ 

‘Is that why you’ve taken the exam eight times?’ Lister asks. ‘Look the smegging door’s open. You’re here. Don’t be daft.’ 

‘14b please Lister.’ Rimmer says repressively, then with a sigh as she hands the pipe cleaner to him. ‘Is that a 14b Lister? Does it look remotely like a 14b?’

‘No it’s a 14a, which is the one you meant.’ Lister counters ‘It’s the less bendy one.’ 

Rimmer almost puts it back in the tray even though he knows she’s right. Instead he wonders why every second thing Lister says sounds so much like innuendo, and pokes viciously at the neck of the rubber tube where the shower connects to the wall. 

‘There’s nothing.’ He says at last. ‘I’ll check the pipes. Stay here and stand by for my orders.’

‘Aye aye sir.’

‘Don’t be funny Lister. And don’t stand for any nonsense either.’ He adds darkly, as he strides out past Smallwood. 

‘Sorry about him.’ Lister says when he’s gone. ‘He’s still a bit jittery about having a woman on his shift.’ 

‘I did get that impression.’ Smallwood admits. ‘So..’ There’s that attractive smile again as he sidles closer. ‘Do you get a lot of nonsense Lister?’

‘Not really.’ 

‘Would you like some?’ 

Lister considers this for a beat. ‘ _You’re_ quite cheeky, aren’t you sir?’ She says.


	4. Chapter Three

‘I’m just surprised at you Lister, that’s all. I didn’t think you cared about rank.’ 

‘Rimmer it’s a drink. Still 25 years old, still entitled to go for a drink with whoever I want.’ 

‘Yes. Both surprised and.. disappointed frankly. If nothing else I did think your ‘salt of the earth’ shtick was genuine.’

At that Lister actually stops in her tracks. 

‘For Pete’s sake Rimmer, would you stop giving me grief?’ She asks. ‘This has nothing to do with you, alright? It is totally none your business.’ 

‘Noted.’ Rimmer says stiffly, offended. ‘Just don’t come crying to me when it all ends in tears. I know what women are like. All those hormones flying about.’

‘Yeah right, sure you do. Smeghead.’ 

‘What did you just call me? Lister, do you have any concept of the penalty for calling a superior officer a smeghead?’ 

‘Rimmer, get real. You can’t call someone a crybaby and insult their sex and not expect to be called a smeghead.’

‘Right, that’s it. I’m putting you on report.’ 

‘Oh overlook it this once.’ Lister says as the notebook comes out. ‘I don’t need to hear Todhunter going all school prefect on me twice in one lifetime.’

Rimmer’s smile is an odd, brief, reluctant thing. Humour tugging at the corner of his mouth rather than broadening out, but it’s definitely there, and he should definitely do it more often.

He still puts her on report though. Smeghead. 

So now she has to deal with Todhunter. Only this time she gets called to the Captain’s office. 

‘Do you want to tell me your side of it?’ He asks. 

‘There’s not really anything to tell, sir. Rimmer was being an arse, and I told him he was being an arse.’ She shrugs. ‘Look he puts everyone on report. Why am I special?’

‘Well as we discussed before, Rimmer can be a bit old-fashioned.’ 

So old fashioned in fact that he’d provided a short precis of the conversation prior to Lister’s insulting him, apparently unaware that he was putting himself in the wrong. Or possibly perfectly well aware he was in the wrong and looking for punishment in some obscure Rimmerish fashion. Todhunter’s never been sure about Rimmer. He’s an odd fish. 

Lister sighs. ‘Look, I’m not making excuses for the bloke because, well, why would I? But honestly? I don’t think he’d like me if I was a man either. He just doesn’t like me. Everything I do winds him up.’ She shrugs. ‘But like I said, that doesn’t make me special. He put Selby on report for breathin’ the other day. He’s just Rimmer. Everything everyone does winds him up.’ 

‘I see.’ Frank says. ‘Well despite that I need to ask you - officially - to try and get on with him. Can you do that?’

‘I can try. I’m not insubordinate by nature you know sir. It’s just not easy when he’s being a..’ 

‘Smeghead. I know. Well that’s all. Can you send Petersen in on your way out?’

Petersen enters, as usual, silently, and waits for Todhunter to speak first. 

‘You’re sure Rimmer fancies her?’ 

‘Oh yes.’ 

‘He’s got a funny way of showing it.’ 

‘He’s a funny man.’

‘Yes. I had noticed.’

Meanwhile, somewhere across the ship (specifically in the bunkroom he shares with Selby) Rimmer is proving them both right, pacing backwards and forwards in the same way he does when he’s trying to answer revision questions. Only this time he’s not revising.

‘I don’t know why I care.’ He has been moaning to Selby for a good 40 minutes now and shows no sign of slowing down. ‘I suppose some people just have to learn the hard way.’ 

‘Rimmer, you said all this yesterday.’ 

‘What should it matter to us if Lister chooses to make an idiot of herself with a pompous arse like Smallwood? It’ll never last anyway. I mean, with all due respect, she’s hardly the kind of young woman he would ever take home to his mother.’ 

‘I’m pretty sure his mother’s dead Rimmer.’ Selby says, mostly to annoy. Rimmer ignores him. 

‘You can tell just by looking at him his family will be full of snooty types. They might be willing to let him have his fun for now, but you can bet your last set of dentures they’ll make him settle down with a girl from his own background in the end.’ He embroiders the fantasy maliciously. ‘One of those skinny girls with the loud, braying voices and a face like a horse.’ 

‘Look, you had your chance Rimmer. You could’ve asked her out.’

 _And she’d have said yes would she?_ Rimmer asks silently, sourly. _Not smegging likely._

But of course he can’t say that out loud. Can’t admit that even deducting a point for lack of effort, Lister is at least a few ahead of anyone he would ever dare ask out. That Lister’s mouth shaping itself round swearwords sent a faint, illicit thrill through him. Not that he approves – women, in Rimmer’s faux-genteel upbringing, never swore. Or licked their fingers. Or scrambled up a set of shelves to reach the highest one (something he had to tell Lister off for just last week. Ladders are provided in the cargo bay for a reason). 

Anyway he’s never felt comfortable around women, always says the wrong thing. Opens his mouth and hears his father come out, and after that all there is to do is bluster through like his father as well, even if he’s cringing inside. 

Never admit weakness. That’s what Father used to say. Never apologise.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He says crisply now. ‘I think you’re forgetting Selby that some of us have a career to build. Some of us are fully paid up love celibates, with no time or inclination to moon about after girls.’ 

From the hideous gibbering smirk on Selby’s face he knows full well that’s bollocks, but Rimmer is getting into his little speech now, almost convincing himself, and has no intention of being distracted. 

‘Some of us have a noble, lonely furrow to plough.’ He finishes, his voice lofty and his gaze raised to meet the print of Napoleon crossing the Alps he has taped to the back of the wardrobe door. ‘I just don’t want to have to deal with it when it all goes wrong, that’s all.’

Selby doesn’t bother arguing. Just grabs his jacket and heads out to the Copacabana for a drink.


	5. Chapter Four

It’s there that Rimmer goes to look for him when he realizes his revision chart isn’t on the wall where it should be. 

Rimmer doesn’t like the Copa, normally avoids it. Especially on a Saturday night when the dancefloor is packed with wiggling bodies and flashing lights. He’s clearly in a minority though. Half the ship is here, jiggling about and spilling drinks over one another. The dancefloor is tacky with it, and the air is hot and smells of cheap bodyspray. 

Selby is, as usual, propping up the bar with Petersen. Both of them gently flirting with anyone who seems interested. Tonight that’s two of the supplies staff, giggling into their cocktails and tossing their soft brown hair back from their faces. 

Idiots, Rimmer thinks ungenerously. He doesn’t know how Selby and Petersen do it – Selby is barely any taller than Lister, and Petersen’s face always looks to Rimmer like it’s slightly out of focus. 

Still he, and both brunettes, soon melt away when Rimmer turns up foaming at the mouth about his revision chart, heading towards the nearest free table with just one little side step to let someone pass through on her way to the bar. 

Rimmer isn’t watching them anymore though, he’s too focussed on interrogating Selby. 

‘What did you do with it?’ He asks, his voice rising on just the slightest hint of hysteria. ‘It took me ages to do that timetable. I’ve got three months revision to cram into two weeks now. I need it today.’ 

Lister, mouthing a quick ‘thanks’ to Sandra from supplies for letting her get past (it is too loud this close to the dancefloor for anyone to hear anything unless they're right up close or shouting), wonders anew if Rimmer really truly wants to be an officer. That’s some pretty advanced self-sabotage going on there. It can’t be healthy. 

‘Same again?’ Josh, behind the bar, is already picking up the bottle of rum. This too is a part of the routine. One jug of rum and coke, one jug of margarita. Lister gives him the thumbs up and considers the possibilities of peanuts. 

Over to the side Rimmer is saying something about learning drugs, and Selby, mock-horrified, is reminding him they’re illegal. 

Frankly Lister doesn’t think she can bear to listen to the poor sod much longer. She leans in.

‘C’mon Rimmer, it’s Saturday night. Nobody works on Saturday night.’ 

She’s not that loud – not louder than you have to be in here - but Rimmer jumps anyway, almost as startled as if she’d pinched his arse, and turns to snap. 

‘You don’t work any night. You don’t work any day.’ 

‘Play hard, skive hard.’ Lister grins at him. She’s having a good time, and she has no intention of letting Rimmer spoil it. There’s a slight sheen on her skin from the dancing, and her paisley print top is knotted up in front to let her midriff cool. Bright and glossy with lazy girl’s makeup – a slick of mascara and lipstick so dark a red it’s almost purple, but no foundation, no fiddling about – and the joy of knowing she’s got all tomorrow to sleep in. 

Rimmer is appalled. Horrified. He wants to taste that sweat on her skin. Half expects his tongue to just unravel from his head, his eyes to shoot out on stalks like a cartoon.  
Instead he draws himself up more tightly, repressing all expression. 

‘What does Smallwood think of that outfit I wonder?’ He asks.

‘What, the glad rags? No idea, didn’t ask him.’ Her brow furrows slightly. ‘You know Todhunter’s right. You are old-fashioned.’ 

‘And you’re drunk.’

‘Only quite drunk Arnie.’ She counters. ‘Only what my old Nan used to call nicely thank you.’ She gathers up her drinks. ‘Well have a good one if you remember how.’ 

‘I didn’t come in here for a good time. I.. why the smeg did I come in here in fact?’ Rimmer mutters to himself as she leaves (she’s right, she can’t be that drunk, she weaves through the crowd on the edge of the dance floor without spilling a drop). ‘Oh yes, my timetable..’ 

But Selby has gone.

Lister’s mates are absolutely gasping for a drink by the time she gets back, but they wouldn’t be her mates if they couldn’t fill their glasses and do the interrogation at the same time. 

‘What did Rimmer want then?’

‘Looking for his revision timetable.’

‘Why’d he ask you?’

‘He didn’t. He asked Selby. I was just trying to get him to loosen up. Not like that!’ The raised eyebrows make her defensive. ‘Not like that. Just for his own good. He’s gonna break himself one of these days, that’s all.’

‘Hmm. Needs a good shag if you ask me.’ Yvonne says, tilting back her chair slightly to watch Rimmer’s arse as he edges round the dance floor to escape again. ‘You’re not tempted?’ 

‘By Rimmer?’ For a moment - a brief, confused moment, Deb actually considers the question. The main attraction, weirdly, is the idea of making a mess of that hair he tries to keep oh so very tidy. 

There’s that odd, reluctant smile too, but.. ‘Nah. Even if he wasn’t a git he’d still be a basketcase.’

‘Just a shag though. No strings.’ 

But Lister isn’t interested. Maybe it’s to do with being adopted and her Dad dying and that but really, if she’s honest, she’s always wanted something solid. A family or a patch of ground where she can settle and grow things and put down roots. 

She hasn’t found it yet, and she’s kissed (and shagged) a lot of frogs trying, but she’s nowhere near ready to give up.

‘Still not tempted.’ She says.


	6. Chapter Five

‘Lister can I talk to you?’ Oh smegging hell. Lister doesn’t want this. Doesn’t need this. She doesn’t even like Rimmer and she resents Yvonne putting that hurt, baffled look on his face. 

‘Sure.’ 

‘Seriously.’

‘Don’t I look serious? I’m listenin’.’

‘It’s about McGruder.’ Rimmer waits for a response, doesn’t get one. ‘Was she really hit on the head with a winch?’

‘Yeah.’ It’s true, as far as it goes. Lister doesn’t really think it’s why Yvonne slept with him, but it’s true. She realises she’s stuffed her hands in her overalls pockets, is shuffling her feet. She’s always been useless at lying to people. Luckily Rimmer doesn’t seem to notice. 

‘I didn’t know.’ He says simply.

‘Yeah, I figured.’ 

‘Well thank you for that at least.’ He says stiffly. He’s heard the rumours going round then.

Lister isn’t up for the next girl’s night out. She likes to think she’s got some integrity. Though, to be fair, Yvonne never said she didn’t know it was Rimmer she was shagging, just that she wouldn’t have done it normally. 

It’s got bigger and nastier in the telling. And half the people spreading it probably don’t really believe it anyway. 

Marie certainly can’t see what the fuss is about. 

‘Yvonne thinks she’s done him a favour.’ She says. ‘Maybe she has.’

‘Yeah right. I work with the bloke Marie. No she hasn’t.’

And of course in the same week that her social life goes kaputski the thing with Smallwood fizzles and dies. Pretty much like Rimmer said it would - and in case she’s forgotten about that he’s very happy to remind her. Repeatedly. 

‘Yeah, yeah.’ She says. ‘Why do you even care Rimmer? What’s it to you?’ 

‘Nothing, obviously. I just want you to note that I was right, that’s all.’ Being right seems to put him in a merry, merry mood. 

‘Yeah, fine. Consider it noted.’ Why does she even care what the rest of the ship think of him? 

The only bright spot on the horizon is planet leave on Miranda, and by the time they get there she is in exactly the right frame of mind to feel even sorrier for something else than she does for herself. 

That something, stupidly, is a small black cat, clearly hungry and even more clearly pregnant, mewing piteously and following her for at least four blocks. Confident, with that sixth sense all animals seem to have, that Deborah Lister is a soft touch. 

In the end she picks it up, heads to the nearest burger van, and orders each of them a burger, stroking it absentmindedly while the cook adds onion and ketchup and pickles and cheese to hers. 

She’s worried about how small it is. The belly is the only solid thing about it, hanging like a melon between its spindly legs. There are no mice on Miranda, so someone must be feeding it, but she can feel the tiny ribs and the thin bones of its tail. 

There’s no collar, and a small black speck tickles across her wrist as she puts it down again. Fleas. 

It’s not really anyone’s is it? Just a stray people feed. 

A lot like her really. 

She smuggles it on board the ship in a mood compounded of defiance, sympathy, and the need to have something to cuddle. 

It’s only a cat. How much harm can it do?

Marie thinks she’s mad, and is absolutely clear on how much harm it could do, but the cat is adorable, and since they’ve no way to get it back off the ship without causing more trouble, she’s just as keen to hide it as Lister is. 

‘If you get caught though I’ll have to deny all knowledge.’ 

‘No problem. I’ll tell them I only let her out when you weren’t here.’ Marie has her exams soon. By the time they get back to Earth she’ll be a fully fledged catering officer. 

‘That’s not a real officer though is it?’ Rimmer says obnoxiously, pipe cleaner halfway up a vending machine nozzle. He’s already been sprayed with tomato soup in a sensitive area (lucky it was only lukewarm) and although his mood is better since the rumours have died down and Lister’s ‘little romance’ died a death, it’s not proof against seeing others succeed. 

‘She’ll outrank you.’ Lister says. ‘And me.’ 

‘Especially you, I think you’ll find. Anyway I’m not going to be here for long.’ 

This is pure delusion. Rimmer has taken the astro-navigation exam twice already since Lister got on this ship, and found the whole thing so stressful he passed out. On previous occasions, if Petersen is to be believed, he went completely doolally and tried to convince himself he was a fish. 

She still doesn’t know why he does it to himself, and if they got on a bit better she’d ask. Not that he’d listen. When Selby mentioned it Rimmer put him on report for ‘an act of sabotage’, which even he must know if overegging it. 

‘Lister. _Lister!_ ' She's drifted off. He's saying something. 'Pass the green cloth and stop daydreaming. What were you thinking about anyway?’

‘Nothing, just a bit bored.’ 

‘It must be a whirligig of excitement where you come from Lister. You’ve been bored since you got here.’

‘Not really. I was bored there are well.’

Rimmer only shakes his head, mops the last of the soup up, and chucks the cloth back on the cart.


	7. Chapter Six

Two weeks later Holly detects a non-human lifeform on board. Lister teases that it’s Rimmer, but of course it’s the cat. They let her run around in the air vents for exercise, and probably a camera somewhere picked her up. That’s Marie’s theory anyway. Lister hadn’t even thought about it. Had taken a whole heap of polaroids before Marie pointed out how much trouble she’d be in if they were found. 

‘I don’t understand you.’ She says. ‘It’s not like you’re stupid. You just don’t engage your brain.’

Lister shrugs. ‘Well, things usually turn out alright.’ 

‘They turn out better if you plan them.’ 

‘I make plans.’ 

What she doesn’t plan for though is Rimmer finding one of those photographs. Who knows where he got it – Selby probably, being careless when he went into the medical bay - Chen and Selby have both come down with the same tummy bug at once, and Rimmer had an exam related breakdown (only his third this year) just a few days ago. So now z-shift are on a single-person rota for the rest of the week. 

Lister has asked why they don’t get one of the other shifts to help, but Rimmer won’t request it and the stupid command structure on this ship means that no-one else can if he won’t. 

Which is why she’s trying to get to work on time for a change, galloping down the stairs, when Rimmer catches and confronts her.

‘A word Lister.’ He says. 

‘Wha?’ She’s not expecting him here, is knocked off balance by it. 

‘What is this?’ He asks, sticking the incriminating photograph – herself with the cat on her lap - right under her nose.

‘I don’t know Rimmer.’ She says slowly. ‘You tell me.’

‘It’s a cat. You have a cat on board.’ 

‘Oh yeah, that.’ 

‘Have you any idea how dangerous that is Listy? Have you never heard of quarantine regulations? Surely someone mentioned them.’ 

‘I felt sorry for her.’

'If you’re caught – no sorry.’ He corrects himself. ‘When you’re caught..’

‘Don’t you dare tell anyone Rimmer. Don’t you dare.’ She’d shout if she wasn’t afraid of being overheard. As it is the few people hurrying along the walkway above don’t even spare them a glance. 

Only Rimmer is aware of the real anger in her voice. ‘Are you threatening me?’ He asks. 

‘Yeah right, all five foot four of me. You must be terrified.’ Even standing on the step above him she’s smaller. If they were on the level and his nostrils were flaring like that she’d probably be able to see right up his nose. 

‘I am trying to help you, Lister. I am trying to make you see the error of your ways..’ 

‘Give it up Arnold, you’d make a piss poor priest.’ 

‘Will you at least let me finish a sentence!’ There’s a metallic clang from the stairs as Rimmer’s open palm strikes the railing, an edge of hysteria to his voice that makes Lister wonder if he’s really ready to be back at work yet. ‘Just one smegging sentence.’ He says. ‘Just once. One sentence, that’s all I ask. One!’ 

‘Sure. Go on then.’ 

‘I know we got off on the wrong foot. I accept that I may have seemed less..' He struggles with the right terminology. '..committed to the spirit of diversity in the workplace than seemed acceptable to you. But I have truly never met anyone so maddeningly.. chirpy, and mind bogglingly.. frivolous.’ He regroups ‘And there’s no way you’re five foot four. I doubt you’re five foot three.’

Lister shrugs, five three, five four, who cares? ‘Life is too important to take seriously. Oscar Wilde said that.’

‘Before they locked him up I expect.’ Rimmer spits back. ‘Look, let me show you something.’ 

Sighing, Lister turns and trudges unwillingly up the stairs after Rimmer, more to stop him having a breakdown than because she cares. Stares unimpressed at the row of upright coffin shaped boxes he has brought her to see. 

‘Stasis booths.’ He says. ‘That’s the punishment for breaking quarantine regulations, Listy. Years in a stasis booth. No wages, no life. None of that lovely human interaction you’re so fond of, and summary dismissal at the end.’ 

Lister shrugs again, arms folded. 

‘Rimmer, the cat's stayin’. What else am I supposed to do, chuck her out an airlock? Alright, you think I’m frivolous, fair enough. But I’m not frivolous enough to just dump her. She’s relying on me.’

‘As your senior officer I should report you. In your own interest I should report you.’ 

But Lister has known him for just about eight months now. She knows full well when he’s wavering. Rimmer sighs. ‘Well I give up. I tried.’ 

It’s at this strategic moment that the alarms go off. 

The way Rimmer’s face drops would be funny if it wasn’t, actually, anything but funny.

‘Oh my god.’ He says. ‘Oh my god.’

‘What’s..’ But Rimmer is already bundling her into the nearest stasis booth, and rather than ask stupid questions Lister lets him do it. Realises now that she was right to think he’d been off – more off than normal, stressed like elastic – right from the start of this conversation. 

At this point the man is actually gibbering with terror.

Two more seconds and they’d be dead, but stasis booths are designed for interstellar travel, to be operated easily by all ranks of crew, and from both outside and in. All Rimmer has to do is spin a wheel, and the mechanism engages. 

Outside, as the crew collapse and die, floor after floor, wave after wave, Holly accelerates out into the vacuum of space where the radiation spreading through the ship will be swallowed and lost. 

Inside though, they know nothing of that. Time remains suspended. Rimmer’s left hand still on Lister’s arm, his right on the locking mechanism, Lister’s head turned towards him as if she's about to ask a question at last.


	8. Chapter Seven

Three million years later she does finally get to ask it.

‘Rimmer, what the smegging hell is going on?’ 

‘Oh no no no.’ Rimmer whines, not answering her, letting the door fall open so that he can peer out, recoiling again at the silence, the dust. 

Lister gives up on him, pushing past and out into the corridor. It’s strangely quiet. Eerie. Even the lights seem dimmer.

‘Holly?’ She says. ‘Anyone?’

‘Morning Deb.’ Holly seems himself at least, blinking blandly at her from the nearest screen. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t want to butt in there.’

‘What?’

‘I thought I’d give Rimmer a chance to explain himself first.’ 

Lister looks back at Rimmer. He’s still clinging to the stasis pod door. His face is drained. Grey. 

She tries to catch his eye but he just shakes his head, gaze skittering away across the floor and up the wall and anywhere but directly at her. She doesn’t know what he’s done, but he looks guilty as sin.

‘I don’t think Rimmer’s in any state to explain anythin’.’ 

‘In that case.’ Holly says prosaically. ‘I’ll see you up in the drive room for debriefing.’ 

They don’t talk at first as they make their way upstairs, but Lister pokes her head round a few doors, bewildered to find small piles of dust everywhere. On the chairs and the floor. Oddly neat, pale, and everywhere. It’s strange.

‘What’s all the dust about?’ She says at last.

’Human remains.’ Rimmer’s voice is hollow. A sharp giggle that has nothing to do with humour escapes as he presses his fingers to his mouth. 

‘What?’ 

‘That’s the only thing the skutters aren’t allowed to dispose of. They have to leave them where they are.’

‘But they’re just dust.’

‘If what I think has happened happened we were in stasis a very, very long time.’

‘So what do you think ‘happened happened’ then?’ She asks, but he doesn’t respond. Just keeps looking round at shadows as if he expects monsters or aliens or some sort of avenging angel to leap out and smite him.

‘Rimmer.’ Lister moves to stand directly in front of him so he has to look at her. ‘You know a bit too much about all this. Tell me what happened.’

‘Radiation leak.’ Rimmer says weakly. ‘It’s not my fault.’ He’s trying to persuade himself, it’s there in his voice, the need to make it someone else’s fault. ‘It was buried halfway down the worksheet. I didn’t know it was even there until I got to it, and then if I’d taken it back and explained.. I thought they’d.. I didn’t.. they’re not supposed to give us serious jobs like that. Why would anyone do that?’

‘Give you a serious job?’ Lister says. ‘Well, I dunno Rimmer. I really don’t.’

‘It’s not my fault.’

‘Yeah, course not. Holly?’

‘Told you has he?’ Holly is there at once. Listening in probably. What else is there to listen to? 

‘Yeah.’ Lister says. ‘So how long were we in stasis for then?’

‘Well I had to wait for the background radiation to die down, and then, of course..’ 

But Lister is running out of patience. ‘Look, everyone stop smegging hedging and just be straight with me. _How Long_.’

‘Three million years.’ 

She nods slowly, grimly. ‘And everyone’s dead, we’re on our own.’ 

‘The two of you are almost certainly the last surviving members of the human race.’ Holly agrees. ‘Still at least we got one of each, I suppose.’ 

‘Yeah just can that train of thought, thanks Hol.’


	9. Chapter Eight

‘It’s not my fault.’ It’s the third time Rimmer’s said it, and they’re in the drive room by now. More little piles of dust on the chairs and the consoles. Lister shakes her head over Petersen’s and sweeps it slowly off with her hand so she can sit down. It’s not gritty and greasy like Nan’s was when they got her back from the crem. It’s more like talcum powder. Dry. 

‘You should’ve asked for help.’ Lister says, not in the mood to pull any punches. 

Rimmer slumps a little lower in the seat he’s taken. 

She refuses to feel bad about that although, alright, it wasn’t just him. He had an exam three days – well three days and three million years - ago at which he did nothing, apparently, but a palm print and his scrawly, loopy signature, before toppling over in a faint again. It wouldn’t be his remit even if he were well, and he was working by himself. 

Of course he should have asked for help from the other teams. Of course he should have gone back to whoever did the work rota and explained he didn’t know what he was doing. Or stayed under sedation in the first place and left it to someone else to sort the shift out. 

But hindsight is 20/20 isn’t it? 

‘Why are we in here anyway?’ Lister asks. ‘We’re not going to fly this thing.’ 

‘I suppose technically we’re the captain and first officer now, by default.’ The thought seems to brighten Rimmer up a bit. 

‘And I suppose you think you’re captain.’

‘I don’t know why that’s unreasonable. It makes perfectly good sense for me to be senior to you.’

‘Rimmer, you killed the crew.’ 

‘Well if you’re going to bring that up every time we have a conversation there’s no point talking about it.’ 

And as if by magic he’s made her angry with him again. Lister swings the chair round and is out of the room and down the corridor in an instant, reminding herself that she doesn’t believe in physical violence before she takes to it. She doesn’t know where she’s going – back to bed or for a drink probably - but mostly she’s just moving away from Rimmer before she injures him. 

Predictably, with his longer legs, he catches her up. But she’s tuning him out. ‘No point talking about it Rimmer, remember?’ She’s too angry to do anything else. Too angry to hear the sing-song voice up ahead. 

‘And that is mine and that is mine..’ 

The Cat is having a great day. New, exciting smells on the ship, and now he's come to investigate there's all this new territory as well. He’s still busy claiming it when two people come storming round the corner and almost walk into him. 

‘Better make myself look big.’ He tells himself, raising his claws above his head and exposing his fangs. 

To Lister, who watched more horror movies at a young, impressionable age than could possibly have been healthy, he looks like an especially dapper Dracula. She backs away slowly through a nearby door and, without realising it, walks herself straight into a table. The scrape of the legs against the plastic floor tiles make her jump again. 

‘Holly, what was that?’ 

‘During the radioactive crisis Deb, your cat and her kittens were safely sealed in the hold.’ Holly tells her. ‘They’ve been breeding there for three million years, and have evolved into the creature you just met in the corridor.’ 

Rimmer, predictably, seizes on the least important thing right now. ‘That cat of yours was pregnant?’ He screeches.

‘A bit pregnant.’ She admits. 

‘Oh, a bit pregnant. I see. Well that’s a-ok then.’ 

‘I felt sorry for her ok? Anyway it worked out alright.’

‘Are you sure about that Lister?’ Rimmer nods in the direction of the doorway, drawing her attention to the Cat standing there in his formal but very pink suit and a worryingly broad smile. The lights twinkle off his extended canines, and she can’t help but notice that is also very deliberate look up and down he’s giving her. 

Lister holds up her hands in the universal gesture for _hang on a minute_. ’Look, no offence pal.’ She says. ‘But I’m already having a very weird day and we’re not even the same species.’ 

The Cat considers it a moment. ‘Ok.’ He says. ‘Feed me then.’

Ten minutes later they’re in Lister’s quarters. Rimmer sitting on Marie’s bunk (there’s no dust in here. Deb will have to ask Holly which of the sad little piles dotted around the ship is Marie.) and Cat at the table lapping up krispies and milk. 

‘What’s your name? Where are all the other little kitties?’ Lister asks, but Cat either doesn’t know or won’t tell. Just laps up more krispies and ignores her.

‘Who cares?’ Rimmer asks. ‘I want it off the ship.’

‘No. He’s coming home with us, aren’t you Cat?’

‘Home. And where is home exactly?’

‘Earth.’ She says, like it should be obvious, even to Rimmer. 

‘Earth? What’s to say the Earth is even there anymore. Even if is look what’s happened to a domestic pet in 3 million years. A pet which we are not, by the way, keeping.’

‘It’s not a question of keeping him Rimmer. He’s a person. This is his home.’

‘Soppy, that’s what you are.’

‘Proud of it too.’ Maybe it’s defying Rimmer, but Lister’s spirits, never down for long, are on the rebound back up. ‘Holly.’ She says. ‘Set a course for Earth please.’

‘Ok, Deb. Can do.’ 

Rimmer’s expression is priceless.


End file.
